


'Neath the Halo of a Street Light

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Series: The Journey of the Seven-Tailed Fox [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, Helpful Deaton, Nogitsune, Peter POV, Victim Blaming, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: In the aftermath of the crash, Peter and his pseudo-pack face off against the alpha pack. Unfortunately, that's not the only thing they have to deal with. Apparently someone summoned a "Nogitsune." Just what Peter wanted and what this day needed.Sequel toHello Darkness, My Old Friend.
Series: The Journey of the Seven-Tailed Fox [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1073649
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	'Neath the Halo of a Street Light

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _The Sound of Silence_ by Simon & Garfunkel.
> 
> Yes, the actual lyric is "'Neath the halo of a street lamp" but I like "street light" better even if it doesn't rhyme with the succeeding line.
> 
> If you feel I've forgotten a tag, please let me know.

~ * ~

Peter can’t breathe. His lungs are crushed.

Next to him, Deaton sleeps peacefully. They aren’t in the vehicle anymore. And it’s just the two of them.

The ground is rough beneath Peter’s back, sticks and stones digging into the flesh where his shirt has been torn. He digs his claws into his thigh, trying to trigger his healing.

Slowly, it comes back online, and he can finally draw a breath.

He sits up, scanning the clearing that they’ve landed in. None of the others are around, and there is no evidence of Deaton’s vehicle.

Sniffing does nothing. His senses are still offline. It’s frightening because it’s like the years he was stuck in a coma, and it’s not something Peter wants to experience again.

“Ah, you’re awake,” someone says, and Peter snaps his head around, staring at the alpha werewolf kneeling behind him. Even though it’s still night out with occasional flashes of lightning, the alpha has a pair of dark glasses over his milky red eyes.

“Deucalion,” Peter says. He remembers meeting him many years ago. He hadn’t liked him then, and his fondness hasn’t increased.

“Peter Hale,” Deucalion responds, his tone bland and English. Peter curls his lip at him. Deucalion spreads his hands as if to show him that he’s unarmed, but Peter heard once that Deucalion wasn’t always blind, and likewise, Peter expects he isn’t always unarmed.

The fact that he’s sitting here with hardly any senses while Deucalion mocks him by pretending to be defenseless speaks volumes.

Peter struggles to his feet. Deaton is still out for the count, and Peter kind of hopes that the ex-emissary won’t wake up. In some ways, he blames Deaton as much as he blames Derek for the decimation of their family.

He also blames his sister, but it’s harder to stay angry at the dead than at the living. Besides, Derek has committed the travesty of ripping Peter’s throat out.

“What do you want with us?” Peter magnanimously includes Deaton with the sweep of his arm.

Deucalion smiles. “I’m sure it will become abundantly clear just what your purpose is,” he says, patting the ground next to him. Peter has no intention of sitting down again.

He casts about, searching for a weapon. Deucalion follows his progress, laughing to himself as Peter finds any number of branches that he discards immediately because they lack the structural integrity to bruise a human.

He finally finds a metal strip off Deaton’s minivan. He hefts it in his hand and then swings it. Deucalion stops it with his hand, his sunglasses discarded, eyes bright red. Peter knows then that Deucalion is looking at him, seeing him with more than just his senses of hearing and smell.

“You have a part to play,” Deucalion says, jerking the metal from Peter. He tosses it aside, threading the fingers of his other hand through his hair. “Such a pretty man,” Deucalion sneers. “Not as pretty as your nephew, though. That is a man that can have the world if he only knew how to take it, but you made sure he couldn’t, didn’t you?”

Peter’s heart stutters in his chest. He used to be able to hide when he was affected, when he lied. Six years is a long time to lose parts of yourself you didn’t know you were losing. Peter is still learning himself again. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. Deucalion laughs.

“You forget that I knew you both when you were younger. I saw you both, I knew what you would do to your nephew, jealous boy that you were.”

“I was never jealous of Derek,” Peter grits out. He feels his face flush, and he snarls at Deucalion, snapping blunt teeth at nothing—he doesn’t want to risk angering Deucalion too much right now because there’s no doubt who’s stronger right now.

“Yes you were,” Deucalion says calmly. “There’s a reason the boy lost his first sweetheart and it wasn’t because he was a werewolf.”

Peter opens his mouth to deny it again, but Deaton groans, drawing both of their attention.

“Ah, he awakens.” Deucalion kneels next to Deaton, hands coming to rest against his chest. He draws some pain from Deaton, and he rouses enough to gasp.

“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as Deucalion helps him sit up.

“We’re stuck in the middle of the villain’s monologue,” Peter tells him, shouldering Deucalion aside to haul Deaton to his feet.

“Why am I not more hurt?” Deaton wonders, patting his body down in a poor imitation of a frisk. He touches a wet spot on his head and winces. “Peter?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the forest healed you?”

“Or maybe you absorbed some of the energy from the darach,” Deucalion suggests.

Deaton blinks at him before succinctly saying, “Shit.”

“Wait, really?”

“In all likelihood? Yes.”

“That’s fantastic,” Peter says sarcastically. He shoots a glance at Deucalion. The darach, Jennifer Blake, had been sacrificing people to try to stop the alpha pack. If Deucalion suspects that Deaton can pose a threat to him or his pack, then Alan is as good as dead.

Deaton must feel the same expiration hanging over his head because he too looks to their—what?—attacker?—savior?—and sighs.

“Oh, don’t worry, Doctor,” Deucalion says, “I have no intention of killing you.” He rolls his head to stare at Peter with his milky red eyes again. Unnerved, Peter looks away first. “He’s going to do it.”

“Why?” Peter wants to know. He might have felt a need to murder Derek earlier, but surprisingly, the urge has mostly passed. He isn’t going to hurt Deaton right now.

“Because,” Deucalion says, “you’re going to kill your pack.”

~ * ~

Peter paces in the clearing. Almost thirty minutes have passed since Deucalion made his announcement, and Peter hasn’t stopped moving, or thinking, since.

Deaton watches him warily. Neither of them have forgotten Deucalion’s words. It isn’t as if Peter’s going to suddenly snap and kill Deaton. He has no reason. Deaton isn’t even part of Peter’s pack. Why would he kill someone who has no significance to him?

He could of course claim that it is revenge for the fire, but there’s someone who ranks even higher than Deaton on his kill list.

Derek.

He’s come back full circle and his need to exact revenge has grown again. Surprisingly, the boy is still a part of his pack. Peter reaches out, searching the bonds, and there, faintly, he can feel Derek’s heartbeat.

He’s nowhere close, not that Peter can sense—he’d be able to smell him if he were—but he’s not so far away that the bonds are muted as they were when Derek was the alpha.

Deucalion tracks Peter’s progress, a smile on his lips as he cocks his head one way and then another. “Can you hear them?” he asks.

“Hear who?” Peter stops, straining his ears. All he can hear is Deaton’s raspy breath.

“Your pack,” Deucalion says, flicking out his claws, using them to mark the fallen tree he’s perched on. “They’re fighting. Trying to get to you.” He stands up, dusting off his pants. He picks up his cane, unfolding it with a flick of his wrist. His smile turns sinister, eyes glowing bright red behind his glasses. He turns his head, tracking Peter with his eyes. “Shall we?” he asks before he lunges, the uncapped tip of his cane whistling past Peter’s ear.

He leaps back, swinging his own, clawed hand at Deucalion.

They trade blows that don’t land while Deaton watches them.

Finally though, Deucalion lands a lucky strike on Peter’s side, punching his still-tender ribs out of place. Peter curls down over the injury, and Deucalion’s cane slices over his cheek, scoring deep enough that he can taste the metal as it scrapes over his tongue.

Peter spits blood at Deucalion’s feet, tackling him below his knees, knocking him over, smashing his head against the ground. He doesn’t give him a chance to recover, crawling over him to slam his fist into his face again and again.

Deucalion just laughs.

“They’re here,” he taunts right before one of the other alphas, Kali, if Peter recalls correctly, jumps into the clearing followed closely by Ennis.

Peter pauses, studying the way the he lumbers after Kali, his bloodied hands reaching for her as she dances out of his reach. Tethered to Ennis by a length of rope, stumbling over the uneven ground and felled branches is the Sheriff.

John has a bloody gash across his forehead and his shirt sticks to his body as if he’d been dunked into a cold bath. In his hand, he holds a sharp piece of metal.

“What about the rest of them?” Peter asks, eyeing Deucalion.

He laughs again. “Search your pack bonds. Tell me, where are they?”

Peter concentrates, aware that he’s probably opening himself to an attack. He knows there are at least two other alphas that are still unaccounted for.

There! He can feel Derek nearby, closer than before, Stiles with him, and faintly, Scott.

They’re coming, a storm of vengeance heading for the alphas.

Peter smiles to himself. The fight is going to be bloody. People might not survive. Peter doesn’t care; his fangs drop just as Stiles breaks through the foliage, a bat held high above his head, a battle cry on his lips.

It’s beautiful to watch as Stiles slams his weapon against Ennis’ head. John moves with Ennis, the rope pulling him along. Stiles might appreciate his father being removed from the line of fire, and Peter reaches out to cut him loose, only to be beat by John himself. After he’s free, John drives the improvised knife into Ennis’ back, right into his spine. Werewolves can heal, but it takes time especially if the injury occurs to a critical point. Ennis drops like a stone, the nerves in his spinal cord severed. He’ll be out for at least ten minutes.

John looks to Peter, a blankness in his eyes that gives Peter pause. Something’s not right, but he doesn’t know what it is and he doesn’t have time to figure it out right now. He needs to disable Deucalion and Kali and find the remaining alphas. But first. He leans down and draws his claws across Ennis’ neck, cutting deep enough that there’s no way to heal.

Kali shrieks when she realizes what he’s done, throwing herself at him in a flurry of kicks and claws, her feet tearing his chest, flaying him open.

Peter fends her as best as he can, but he’s still weakened from the crash and from whatever Deucalion used to inhibit his senses.

Kali gets in a good hit, and Peter goes down, gagging from the blood in his lungs. She grins at him as she raises a hand to return the gesture of tearing his throat out when she coughs suddenly, blood spurting from her own throat.

She falls forward, and Derek stands there, eyes wide, blue turning quickly to red as Kali’s power slams into him. He breathes hard through his nose, trembling. Peter spits at his feet.

Derek is weak. He doesn’t deserve the alpha power, _any_ alpha power. It is an oversight that Peter will rectify when he has the time. Right now, he needs to kill Deucalion.

And then Scott finally enters the clearing, being chased by a magnificent abomination.

Apparently, though it should be a physical impossibility, the remaining alphas are able to meld together into a hulking creature.

No matter. The bigger they are…the bigger they are. Peter grins, leaping over Scott to claw at the creature.

He manages to tear them apart, twins falling to either side of him. Before he can turn to finish them off, John kneels down, metal crossing their throats deep and fast. He reaches his bare hands into their necks and pulls out their tracheas. Both alphas expire quickly, and suddenly Deucalion is all on his own.

John turns to Peter, blank look on his face. “He’s mine,” he says, emotionlessly.

“No.” Peter shoves John back, and Stiles grabs his father.

“Dad, Dad, what’s happened to you?”

Deucalion smiles. “Don’t you know?” he asks. “He’s gone. Taken. Bye-bye Sheriff.”

“Shut up,” Derek snaps. He’s still trembling, still pathetic. If Peter didn’t need him to help take down Deucalion, he’d rip his throat out right now.

Deucalion shakes a finger at Derek. “You can’t mix a fox and a wolf.” And then he jumps over everyone and bites John’s shoulder.

John screams in pain, the first thing other than the blankness that he’s exhibited since the crash.

“You motherfucker,” he swears, stabbing Deucalion over and over again. Stiles backs away from him, eyes wide, mouth open in shock.

Deucalion laughs, allowing the metal to penetrate him before leaning in close to John. “Boo.”

John crumples as if the word had something to do with it. Stiles yells, lunging forward to catch him. He cradles his father, whispering to him, the same word over and over again.

Deucalion stands up, smiling. “If you thought I was bad, just wait until you see what’s going to happen now.”

Peter tears out his throat.

~ * ~

The trek out of the woods could be worse.

By the time they reach the edge of the preserve, everyone is either healed or used to their injuries, except John. He’s still unconscious, being carried by Derek.

Deaton is leading them, probably because his animal clinic will be the first sign of civilization that they’ll see. Scott marches next to Deaton. Stiles hovers next to his dad in Derek’s arms. Peter brings up the rear.

There’s a buzz surrounding Peter, the power from Ennis and Deucalion thrumming just under his skin. Every hair stands on end. Something is coming. Whatever Deucalion tried to do to the sheriff, it didn’t work.

Or maybe it did.

Who knows.

They won’t know until John wakes up.

Derek’s shoulders tense and he stops walking.

Peter glares at him. “Keep moving.”

“He’s waking up.”

Stiles grabs onto his dad’s arm. “Dad? Dad, can you hear me?”

John lifts his head, staring at Stiles with no recognition. And something more from the way both he and Derek physically recoil, and Derek almost drops John. Who slumps down again, eyes closed.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks Stiles.

“His eyes,” Stiles stutters. “Those aren’t my dad’s eyes.”

“Pure black,” Derek reports. “No iris, no sclera. Like it’s all just pupil.”

Peter feels the blood in his veins stop moving. “Jet black?” he asks tightly.

Stiles nods. “Peter, what does that mean?”

“It means he’s been possessed,” Deaton answers. He points at the place on John’s shoulder where Deucalion had bitten him.

“‘Can’t mix a fox and a wolf,’” Peter remembers. “Is there a fox demon in these woods?”

Deaton shoots an unreadable look at him. “Not in these woods, no. However, seventy miles south of us, there was legend of a trickster demon, a Nogitsune, buried within a defunct internment camp from World War II.”

“And how do we defeat a Nogitsune?” Peter asks. “If Deucalion’s bite failed and he’s still a fox, what do we do?”

“You give him to me,” a new voice joins them. A woman, of Japanese heritage, steps from the shadows. She holds a katana in one hand and a slim obsidian blade in the other.

“And who are you?” Peter demands.

The woman barely spares him a glance before she focuses back on John. “I am the only one who can stop him. Give him to me before it’s too late.”

Stiles steps in front of his dad. “No.”

The woman raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think you understand just what he is.”

“A Nogitsune,” Peter says, “yeah, we know.”

“But you don’t _understand_.” The woman lifts the obsidian blade and snaps it. Blue sparks crackle and then more shapes poor out of the shadows. “If he is allowed to remain, he will cause untold suffering. Allow me to rid him of his burden before it’s too late.”

One of the shapes, a man in a mask, Peter thinks until he sees the glowing green eyes, sees the way the outline is only just in the shape of a human, steps forward, shoving Stiles aside. Derek cries out as John is wrenched from his grip.

Weakling.

Peter launches forward, slamming the thing away from John. “Back off.” His hands burn where they contacted the thing.

“Don’t touch the Oni,” the woman says. “They won’t hurt you. They only want the Nogitsune. If you continue to defend it, you will only end up more hurt.”

“It’s my dad,” Stiles says. “You can’t ask me not to defend him.”

The woman’s gaze softens. “If we can separate them without causing the death of your father, we’ll try.”

“You think they’re not going to kill me the minute you turn me over to them?” John asks. His voice adopts a pleading tone. “Stiles, don’t let them take me.”

It’s Derek who stands up, moves in front of John. He puts his head down, breathing hard through his nose. His left arm is completely blistered, the skin burned so badly, Peter can see the bone.

“You can’t have him,” Derek says. “Not until you can assure us that you can exorcise the Nogitsune from him. We will do what we have to to keep him contained, but you cannot take him.”

One of the things, the Oni, slides next to Derek. It reaches out and touches the burn. Derek crumples, screaming, curled around his arm.

Before anyone else can react, John leaps to his feet, drives his sharp piece of metal into the Oni. When it does nothing, he holds up his hands and steps away from Derek’s sobbing mass.

Peter catches the quick kick John delivers to Derek’s lower back.

He would feel sorry for his nephew, but it’s Derek. He’s made his bed, lined it with the bodies of their dead family. Everything he gets is less than he deserves.

“I’m giving myself up,” John says. “Do with me what you want, but leave them alone.”

“Very well.” The woman nods at her Oni and they surround John. Stiles gives a battle cry and rushes them. They vanish in a puff of melting shadow, the woman gone with them too. Stiles throws his head back and screams at the sky above.

It sounds like a howl, and Peter feels something stir in his chest. Derek feels it too by the way he struggles to lift his head. Stiles can’t be in both his and Derek’s pack. And Peter isn’t going to concede to his nephew. Derek will have to die, and sooner than later. Just as soon as they get John back.

Although, how bad would it be to let the woman and her Oni cleanse John—even if they ended up killing him—and then he could manipulate Stiles into accepting the bite. To prove his loyalty, Peter thinks he’ll have Stiles kill Derek.

“Where would she have gone?” Stiles demands of their small group. Everyone shakes their heads except Derek.

“There was a new family that moved to town,” he says. “Kitsunes. I’m pretty sure that woman was a kitsune.”

“And you saw her aura, I suppose,” Peter says snidely.

“No. I know my lore. Kitsunes are the masters of the Oni. Or at least, their tails are.”

“Tails?” Stiles frowns down at Derek. “Like actual tails or…no, that thing she broke. That’s what controls the Oni. That’s what we need to get then. One of those things. Then we can control the Oni.”

“I don’t think it works like that.” Derek struggles to his feet. He doesn’t even ask for help. His arm is definitely injured from whatever the Oni did, and it’s affecting him as he stumbles toward Deaton. “We need to regroup before we go running after her. She’s obviously powerful and we just survived a battle with an alpha pack.”

Peter steps forward, pressing claws into Derek’s arm, and Derek jerks away, out of reach. “And you want to let them get further away while we wait for you to recuperate your strength? You’re the only wolf still injured. Stay here and Scott and I will go get Stiles’ dad.”

“No, Derek’s right,” Deaton says. “We need to come up with a plan. And Derek may be the only werewolf still injured, but he’s not the only one still injured.” He turns to Stiles. “We need to get you checked out to see if there’s any lingering effects from the darach’s ritual.”

“Derek, you know who moved to town and where they live?” Stiles demands.

“I can find out.”

“Then let’s get medical attention and come up with a plan.” Stiles fixes Derek with a heavy glare. “If anything happens to my dad while we’re waiting, I will let Peter rip your throat out.”

Derek sags almost imperceptibly, but he nods with surety. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Derek cuts a quick glance at Peter and then away, but Peter saw the sorrow writ upon his features. When the time comes, Derek won’t go down without a fight, and honestly, Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Come now,” Deaton claps his hands, “we’re only a few yards from the edge of the preserve. I have another vehicle at the clinic we can use to get to the hospital for those that need it. Derek, I want to take a look at your arm when we get to the clinic. I think I may have something that’ll help with the pain.”

“That’s settled then,” Stiles says, the words falling like stones to the mud, splattering each of them with exhaustion and weariness. Then he turns, shouldering his own burden, and stumbles onward.

One by one, they fall in line behind him.

~ * ~

At the clinic, Scott offers to drive Stiles to the hospital, but he declines, watching with interest as Deaton flushes Derek’s arm with cold water and a mixture of herbs and powders. Nothing seems to help and eventually Deaton stops and wraps Derek’s arm.

Derek refuses to get into the vehicle, instead leaning in the passenger window to talk to Stiles. “I’ll get the information on the kitsunes while you get checked out. Don’t worry, Stiles. We’ll get your dad back, from both the Oni and the Nogitsune.”

“You promise?” Stiles counters.

Derek doesn’t respond. Peter shoulders him aside. “Want me to keep an eye on him?”

Stiles stares straight ahead. “No. Let him work alone. I trust him. A hell of a lot more than I trust you.”

“Ouch.” Peter pretends to rub away the hurt, but he steps back and lets them pull away. By the time he turns around, Derek is already gone.

No matter. Peter can track the woman and her minions. He can rescue John all on his own. Or ensure his death. Whichever drives Stiles into his pack faster.

Peter retraces his steps back to the preserve, finds the spot where John had been taken, and starts searching.

Nothing. Even his scent fades away like it’s been doused with a fresh rain. Strange. But he does find the scent of the woman. She’s definitely a kitsune. Old, by her smell. Derek may have his methods for finding the kitsunes, and Peter has his.

He heads back into Beacon Hills, following a thin trail of the woman’s scent.

He circles the whole town, moves in a block and circles again. By the time he’s made fifteen circles, he finally picks up what might be the woman’s smell all over a suburban home.

The fact that his nephew is standing outside the home, watching it with a wary eye means that this is probably the kitsunes’ den.

What’s surprising is there’s human all over it too.

“Peter,” Derek whispers, when he stops next to him, “there’s three people who live here. A mother, father, and daughter.”

“The mother we met, yes?”

“Yeah. She’s an old kitsune. Her husband is human. Her daughter. She’s a kitsune, but really young. She doesn’t even know how to hide her aura. I would be very surprised if she actually knew what she was.”

Peter looks at the house in disgust. “Why would they not tell her what she is? That’s like cutting off half her body and expecting her to function.”

“Not everyone views their abilities as gifts,” Derek murmurs. “If her father doesn’t know what her mom is, why should they train her? Maybe they want her to be human.”

Peter shakes his head. “She’ll never be human.” He turns to Derek. “Are we going to tell her what she is?”

“I don’t think we have a choice. We need to know where her mother might go, where she’d take Stiles’ dad.” He stops Peter with a hand on his arm. “Let me talk to her first.”

“Why?” Peter frowns at Derek. “So you can sweeten her up, maybe butter her up with a little flirtation?”

A grimace crosses Derek’s face. “No. I’m just going to talk to her.” Before Peter can say anything else, he moves to the front door and rings the doorbell. Peter backs away, under the shadow of a tall tree.

A man answers the door. His voice is pleasant, if confused when he says, “Hello. Can I help you?”

Derek’s shoulders straighten. “Hi, yes. I’m looking for your wife.” He thrusts his bandaged arm at the man. “You see, your wife managed to injure me with some kind of poison. I need to know what it is so that I can get an antidote.”

The man looks at him with suspicion. “Are you sure my wife did that?”

“Well, she didn’t,” Derek admits. “Her Oni did.”

The man blanches. “What’s an Oni?” he stutters, but there’s no way to hide that he knows what happened. That he knows what his wife is. And that’s when Peter decides Derek’s had long enough to get to the daughter.

He leaps forward, landing next to Derek, shifted, eyes blazing. Certainly a frightening sight. The man barely blinks at him before turning back to Derek.

“Okay. Werewolf,” he says.

“Human,” Derek returns with a small smirk. He points over the man’s shoulder. “Kitsune.”

The man spins around. “Go back inside,” he snaps. The girl, hair in pigtails, maybe about the age of the rest of the hooligans, that is to say, in her teens, pulls back, but her heartbeat stays strong. She’s out of sight of her dad, but both Peter and Derek know she’s still there.

Derek sticks out his uninjured hand. “Derek Hale. Werewolf.”

“Ken Yukimura. Human.” Ken turns to Peter. “You are?”

“Peter Hale. Derek’s uncle.”

“Ah yes.” Attention back on Derek. “So you say that one of my wife’s Oni touched you?”

“Yes. One of our friends became possessed with a Nogitsune, and your wife absconded with him. She claims she just wants to help exorcise the demon, but…” Derek trails off, shrugging at Ken.

“You don’t trust her,” Ken finishes. “I understand. But I can assure you, neither my daughter nor I know where my wife is.”

Derek tilts his head. Peter heard it too. Ken’s heart tripped. He’s lying.

“Where is your wife?” Peter demands.

Derek lifts a hand as if to stop Peter, and he sees red, whirling on his nephew and slapping his open palm against his ear. Derek crumples, hand pressed to his head. Ken leaps back and slams the door. Peter hits the door an instant later and bounces off.

“Mountain ash,” he growls.

“We’re not trying to kill them,” Derek says. “We’re just trying to find John. You’ll get a lot further if you play nice.”

“Like you, you mean.” Peter spits next to Derek. He doesn’t flinch. “If you hadn’t wasted so much time being nice, we’d have John already.”

“Just go and search for him then. You know what the woman smells like. You track her that way.”

“And what about you, dear nephew? How will you contribute to our mission?”

Derek stands up, dusting off his jeans like they aren’t caked in bloody mud. “I’m going to keep working on the Yukimuras. If the girl’s mother won’t help us, maybe she will.”

“Don’t bite anyone I wouldn’t,” Peter shoots over his shoulder as he bounds away. He doesn’t catch Derek’s reply, but he does hear the door open.

He keeps running. They’re losing too much time. Derek might be right that the way to find John is to use the woman’s family, but Peter wants results now. Usually he is the diplomatic one, but right now, he’s still fighting the want and need to tear his rival limb from limb.

He lifts his head and lets out a warning howl.

No one answers.

~ * ~

Peter finally catches not the woman’s scent but John’s. Fear, hurt, anger, disgust. So many chemosignals. Peter inhales deeply, finds the center and lopes into a clusterfuck.

He gets two steps into the abandoned building the woman is using before he’s surrounded by the Oni. This time, they have blades.

Peter let’s his claws grow, snarls around sharp fangs.

“Leave him,” the woman orders, and the Oni part and step back so that she and Peter can size each other up.

Peter snaps his jaws at her and she shakes her head, aura sliding out like armor.

Their eyes, red and orange, meet.

And the battle is on. Peter slashes, bites, and scratches at her while she dodges and parries with her katana.

Neither has the advantage, and to Peter it is infuriating. He’s used to being the most powerful creature. He’s used to winning.

The only way to beat him is to burn him and dispatch him when he’s trying to heal again.

And still, this woman, this kitsune, has him pressed against the wall as often as he drives her backward.

He thinks she’s waiting for him to run out of energy before she lops off his head and then kills John.

“Wait,” he pants when she shoves him back once more. “Wait. Have you figured out how to get the Nogitsune out of him yet?”

“No,” she says, sadly, almost regretfully. “I am going to have to kill him.”

Peter makes a show of putting away his claws, of smiling with completely human teeth. “That suits me just fine.”

“It doesn’t suit me,” John says, right before he drives one of the Oni’s blades through the woman’s back.

She cries out in pain and slashes back at him, catching him on the side of his head. John recoils, hand pressed to the wound. No blood runs through his fingers, no blood drips down his face. And when he moves his hand, there’s no sign of any injury.

“Oh, oops,” John laughs darkly. No, not John. The Nogitsune.

Peter senses it an instant before it happens, backing away and letting the Oni hold their former master while the Nogitsune taps on the blade still protruding from her back.

“The pain is certainly exquisite,” what used to be John says, “but it could be more, better.” He spins to pin Peter with a gaze lacking all compassion. “Be a dear and fetch the others. I want all the pain and suffering I am due.”

“Don’t leave me here,” the woman hisses. “If you do, then I am dead. He will kill me.”

Peter shrugs at her. “Not my problem.”

And he turns to walk away.

“Peter,” not-John calls. Except it sounds like John. “Peter, please don’t let him kill her. Please.”

“And how would I stop him?” Peter asks.

“Bring him the one he wants. Bring him the boy and everyone can live.”

“The boy?” Peter immediately thinks of Stiles. There’s no way he’s giving his best beta to a soulless creature like the Nogitsune.

Then he thinks of another “boy.”

“You want my nephew,” he says, and not-John confirms with a nod.

“Fine, but he’s at her house. I’ll need her if I’m to get him. You know what a complex he has. All we have to do is go to the Yukimuras’ house and you can have Derek.”

Not-John sweeps an arm out. “After you,” he taunts. Peter grabs the woman’s hand and pulls her with him. He walks leisurely. There’s no purpose to wasting the energy to get back to the kitsune house when it suits him just as much to lead the monster to his nephew. He can only hope he gets to watch the Nogitsune take its first bite out of his nephew’s brittle soul.

Peter smiles. What a beautiful sight the desecration of Derek will be.

~ * ~

By the time they make it back to the woman’s house, her husband and daughter are outside with Derek, and Deaton, Scott, and Stiles have joined them.

Not-John smiles. “All the people I need. Thank you, Peter.”

Peter shoves the woman at her husband and clamps a clawed hand around his nephew’s wrist.

“As promised,” he says, tossing Derek at the Nogitsune. The Oni catch Derek and right him on his feet. Not-John steps up to him and lays a hand on his shoulder, pressing down until Derek drops to his knees.

“All I want is suffering,” not-John says. His fingers trace over the back of Derek’s neck, and he shudders under them. Not-John tightens his hand. “If you let me have this one boy, the rest of you can live your lives unaffected by me.”

Stiles’ mouth opens, and Peter steps in front of him.

“You have him. The deal is made, signed, and sealed. Take your prize and go.”

Not-John smiles, fingers digging into Derek’s shoulder. Derek looks resigned, frightened but willing, and Peter hates him for it.

Then the Oni close around them and they blow away with the shadows.

Almost immediately, Stiles hits Peter’s head. “What the fuck was that?” he demands. “You didn’t even try to get my dad back. Instead you let him take Derek.” Then he turns on the woman. “And you! Why aren’t you still in control of the Oni? How’d my dad get them?”

“That was the Nogitsune, not your father,” the woman says. “I don’t know how it got control of the Oni. They would need a tail from the kitsune that summoned it to do that.”

“Noshiko, you’re hurt,” Ken says. “We need to heal you and then go after the Nogitsune again.”

Stiles whirls on him. “Why? So she can kill my dad?”

The woman, Noshiko, looks drawn, tired and in pain. “If there is another way to save him, please find it. Do you feel comfortable leaving that boy in the Nogitsune’s grasp? He will be tortured, maimed, maybe even killed. Can you live with that if I don’t kill the Nogitsune, and yes, the host as well?”

Stiles blinks. He looks to where Derek was last. “Derek is strong,” he says. “He can take it. Can you not kill my dad right away? Let us find a way to save him while getting rid of the Nogitsune.”

Noshiko nods. She waves off her husband. “I’ll heal. Eventually.” She nods at Stiles. “I need to keep an eye on the Nogitsune and make sure that he doesn’t violate his agreement.”

Then she starts running. For an old kitsune, she has great speed. She’s out of sight in a few minutes, and even Peter can’t hear her anymore.

Predictably, Stiles turns to Deaton. “Any ideas on how to stop a Nogitsune?”

“One,” Deaton says. “Does anyone have that box Derek’s mother’s claws were in?”

“What do we need with that?” Peter demands. It was just a box, wasn’t it? He doesn’t even know where Derek had gotten it from.

“Yes and no,” Deaton says. “It is a box that I made from the remains of the nemeton. If we can somehow separate the Nogitsune from its chosen host, then maybe we can trap it in there.”

“Why trap?” Stiles asks. “Why not just destroy or kill?” Deaton raises an eyebrow. “Of fucking course. It’s un-killable,” he announces to Scott because everyone else, the Yukimuras included, understands that there are some things that you can’t kill no matter the trouble they cause or how much you’d like to be rid of the burden they create.

“So,” Peter says, “how do we separate a Nogitsune from its host?”

“That,” Deaton says, dramatically, “is slightly more doable. It just takes a little research.”

“You’d better come in then,” Ken says. “We’ve got all the books on kitsunes and how to summon or bind demons. All the lore and the tried and true methods.”

“Thank you,” Deaton says. “That would be wonderful.” And then, as one, they all follow Ken into his house.

Except Peter.

He wants to catch up to not-John and his new toy. Maybe see some of that torture and maiming that is supposed to happen. See his nephew suffer like he had suffered.

No one bothers to look back.

Peter vows then that when he rebuilds his pack, the first thing he is going to do is eradicate the McCall pack.

First though, Derek.

Peter smiles at the thought of blood running down his nephew’s face, of skin cracking and peeling as flame licks it. And he hurries. Can’t wait, doesn’t want to miss a thing.

The laugh that trails out of him would shame him were he still the same wolf he was before the fire.

Just at the edge of town, he catches the scent of the Nogitsune and Derek. Oh, he thinks, how fitting.

If Peter follows them, he’ll be going home.

All the better theater for a show.

Peter turns up his old driveway and starts walking.

~ End Part Two ~

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted at [my Tumblr](https://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this story.


End file.
